


there's an endless road to rediscover

by KittyinShadows



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Creepy Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Eventual Smut, Identity Porn, Jason Todd is Robin, Lazarus Pit Madness, M/M, Manipulation, Past Character Death, Resurrection, Reverse Robin AU, Slow To Update, Stalker Tim Drake, Tim Drake is Red Robin, childhood crush, joker dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyinShadows/pseuds/KittyinShadows
Summary: When Tim Drake, second Robin, late ward of Bruce Wayne, comes back from the dead it's a little different. He's not mad at Bruce for failing him as a father; he had never wanted him as a father. He had his own dad, who had died with him by the Joker's hand.He's not what you would call stable...but he isn't mad. Just focused. So when he returns to Gotham it's with a plan: dispose of those who hurt the people he loves, and make childhood crush Damian Wayne his.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 135





	there's an endless road to rediscover

**Author's Note:**

> OK i know i should be working on Pigtails but um here's another multichapter fic. Tim died, not Jason, and i think things would be very different just bc he's affected differently. So in this Jason is 15, Tim is 18, Damian is 23, and Bruce is 41.   
> Also I won't be going super deep into Damians exact relationship with Bruce, but on names: with Bruce or Alfred he calls Bruce Baba, with jason steph cass or close friends he uses Dad, with Talia he uses Father, and when he's pissed at Bruce he uses Father or Bruce.  
> Tim is. pretty creepy here. Just know he is absolutely playing them like a fiddle to get what he wants. But it won't ever be more than a little Dub con, because what Tim wants most is for Damian to want him back.  
> Title from Hey Brother by Avicii. All my thanks and love to rottencloset for betaing <3  
> Enjoy~

There was a new face on the streets of Gotham. Or rather, there was a new mask on the rooftops. He was pretty good. Stuck to the shadows, avoided their paths, covered his tracks. Just… Wasn't as good as Damian. It wasn't easy to best the son of Batman and Talia al Ghul; Robin for seven years and Nightwing for six. The first traces had been found just over two weeks ago. A couple thugs found beat up in an alley. Since then it had been similar: he fought crime, and on occasions the bats investigated those crimes he beat a hasty retreat just before they got there.

Normally they would have forced a meeting with any prospective vigilante, but, well. It had been 41 days since the Joker's escape from Arkham, and every day without a sighting or clue chipped away at Bruce's psyche. Robin wasn't allowed out alone anymore, something that Jason strongly resented, and Damian wasn't allowed in the Joker investigation after their last… Altercation. Cass was off planet with the Teen Titans, while Steph was… Somewhere out of contact. She didn't like to be around them near the anniversary. He couldn't blame her. 

So that left them all far too busy to try and wrangle some new teen hero. Especially when, quite frankly, he was glad for the help. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud. 

The vigilante wore a red and black costume. Red shirt, with black legs, gloves, boots, and an oddly feathered black cape. Over his head was a tightly fit black cowl which dipped down to a beak like nose. Two yellow bandoliers crisscrossed his chest, alongside some sort of insignia they hadn’t gotten close enough to identify. Jason had dubbed him 'Cardinal' after the only red bird he could think of, though Damian wasn't sure he had ever even seen one. 

They were fairly certain it was a teenager, as he was seen patrolling mostly on Friday and Saturday nights, and never after midnight on school nights. He was concerned about untrained teenagers taking it upon themselves to be heroes, just as he had been with Stephanie and...Tim. Only now he knew how badly it could end, and he was even more concerned. Hopefully soon they would catch the Joker, and then he and Bruce could decide what to do with him. Maybe convince the kid to put up his costume. If not, then insist on some proper training. It might do Jason some good to have a superhero friend his age. Bruce had yet to let Jason joins the Teen Titans, terrified of what would happen if he left the city without him. 

No matter. For now, Nightwing must do his job as well as half that of Batman and Robin. Nothing would slip past his watch. 

He refused to lose anyone else. 

—·—

Jason was not supposed to be here. Bruce was at a fundraiser, and Damian was on an emergency mission with the Titans...Jason was supposed to be firmly tucked in bed. _Literally_ . Before he’d left, Bruce had come into Jason’s room to check on him and had _tucked him in_ , a worried expression on his face. Like, what the fuck dude? Don't get him wrong, he loved the guy, but lately Bruce had been swinging wildly between overbearingly parental and broodingly distant. And yeah, Damian had explained it to him his first year with the family but that didn't make it less annoying. 

He was fifteen! He could protect himself. He deserved some independence. But this was the age Tim had passed at...so Jason’s independence and Bruce’s fear were constantly butting heads. 

So Jason was very much not supposed to be perched on a roof overlooking downtown Gotham. _But_ he was being careful, so it’s fine! He wasn’t solving a murder or fighting a supervillian. He was just keeping an eye on things; stopping a couple muggings, walking home some nervous partygoers, that sort of thing. He would be home by midnight, no one the wiser.

"Hey," said a voice behind him, and he did _not_ scream, and anyone who said otherwise is a liar! Because he was Robin, and Robin is, is brave, and cool, and never afraid! He also definitely did _not_ almost fall off the roof only for a hand to grab him by the scruff and yank him back. "Careful," said the voice, sounding amused. 

"Fuck off!" he snapped, which Bruce says he shouldn't do because it 'escalates the situation' or whatever. Luckily, when he turned to see this guy, he didn't seem mad. Hey, this was—"Hey, I know you!" 

"Oh?" Cardinal said, and Jason couldn't see his whole face but the smirk reminded him markedly of Damian's amused bitch face. 

"Yeah! You're pretty awesome dude, even Batman and Nightwing are impressed by how sneaky you are!" 

"No kidding? That's high praise." 

"Yeah! I mean, not sneaky enough to get past them, but, like, it's _Batman and Nightwing_. So don't feel bad."

"Hey, I'll take the compliment." Cardinal was standing there smiling, seeming perfectly friendly, but Jason remembered that even as a fellow vigilante he could be dangerous. 

"What, uh, what're you doin' here?" 

Cardinal rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. "Ok, look. Don't be mad, but, um. Are you supposed to be out here alone?" 

Jason was glad for the darkness and the mask, as he felt his face flush. "I'm Robin, why shouldn't I be out alone?" 

"Yeah, of course, it's just. You'd be worried about a lone teenager on a roof in Gotham too, why should it be different if he's wearing a mask. I don't want you to get in trouble, you know. I've never seen you without Batman. Like the last one got spotted alone pretty often, and then. Well. You know. And with the rumours, you know," he gestured absently at the city below, like he'd lost his train of thought. "Sorry, you're right. I'll go." He turned to go. 

"What rumors?" Jason blurted, and the other man stopped. 

“Oh. I mean, you probably know better than I do. But there’s been whispers that, well, the Joker went missing from Arkham. And now...some _big names_ haven’t been heard from in a while. It’s got everybody on edge.”

Jason shifted, uncomfortable. It hadn’t been in the news, but it wasn’t surprising someone noticed and got word out. “Well. Well how’re you any safer than me, huh?”

“No offense, but I’ve been doing this longer than you. And I know all the best secret spots,” he winked. That was a new tidbit of information. Was Cardinal a former sidekick from some hero? But he seemed familiar with Gotham…so was Bruce just not telling him something? That...was a sad thought. He knew Bruce didn’t talk about a lot of stuff, especially with the last Robin—that he _couldn’t_ talk about it. But he hoped he wouldn’t hide a whole superhero from him. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions though. He trusted Bruce. But it was kind of _exciting_. He was meeting someone new who wouldn’t have the same hangups as Bruce. 

“Really? How long? Could you show me some moves?”

Cardinal laughed a little. “Maybe some other time. For now you really shouldn’t be out here alone. I can’t stop you but think about going home soon, okay?”

Cardinal continued towards the roof's edge, pulling out his own grapple gun—that looked similar to Jason’s but slightly different. As he was about to swing away, Jason couldn’t help but blurt, “You said you know all the best spots? If you showed me I wouldn’t be alone, and I’d be safer in the future, right?”

Cardinal paused, before turning back, a big grin on his face. “Yeah, alright. Screw it. Ready to have some fun, Robin?”

Jason whooped with joy, and ran to join his new acquaintance. 

—·—

Jason was having _so much fun_ . Cardinal was _great_ . He showed him around to a dozen different nooks and crannies across the city, a bunch of spots to get food late at night, and routes certain criminals liked to take. Some of it he knew from Bruce and Damian, but a lot he didn’t. Cardinal even showed him his grapple gun: what he’d included from watching Batman, what he’d kept from online blueprints, and what he’d customized for himself. And Cardinal was _funny;_ he had a similar sarcastic humor to Bruce, but used it a lot more readily, and openly enjoyed Jason’s jokes. 

This all combined to one horrible, awful moment, when Jason heard the comm in his ear turn on. 

“Robin, you had better answer this,” Batman’s voice growled in his ear.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he said in the middle of Cardinal telling him Penguin’s favorite bakery. Cardinal blinked at him, surprised. Jason hurriedly turned his own comm on. “I’m here, B, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to let it get so late, but I’ll be right back I swear.”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay on the line.”

“I’ll meet you halfway, uh, at the place we always get ice cream.”

“Robin,” Batman grumbled, but Jason had already muted himself.

“Shit. _Shit._ I’m so dead. I can’t believe I lost track of time. _Shit_.”

Cardinal’s smile had faded to a concerned frown. “What do you mean? Are you going to be ok? He won’t...I mean it's Batman, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t mean, like. No. B is...the best. He’s never hit me outside of sparring and even then it’s like crazy gentle, and he hugs me all the time and tells me he loves me even though he’s awkward, and he’s super protective which is why I’m supposed to be in bed right now and am totally gonna be grounded until I go to fucking college.”

Cardinal looked almost sad, for a split second, but then he shook it off and reached as though to pat his back, before retracting. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You better get going, though. I’ll follow a couple buildings behind to make sure you get there safe, but I don’t know that I’m ready to meet Batman right now, haha. Especially if he’s in a bad mood. See, this is why I was saying I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I know all about sneaking out from under my parents noses.”

Jason nodded, now sad. He’d almost made a friend, tonight, and now he’d fucked it all up. All that was left was to face the music. 

“Thanks for showing me around, it was really fun. Sorry it had to end like this.”

Cardinal just shrugged. So Jason started to swing across the city, until he landed in front of the darkened “I” of the “Ice Cream” sign. Chin rested on his knees, he let himself pout until B rolled up. He only looked back for Cardinal once. He didn’t see him. 

The drive home was quiet, anger practically rolling off of Bruce. Even though he knew, logically, that Bruce would never hurt him, it still made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Made him slump away from his dad as far as he could. He felt like a little kid again, and he hated it. 

Their footsteps echoed as they walked into the main cave, where Jason was shocked to see Damian. His older brother was standing there, unmasked, arms crossed over his green and black Nightwing suit. Shit. He was so screwed.

“Damian?! You're supposed to be with the Titans!” he protested.

“Dad called me as soon as he saw your bed empty. The only reason he didn’t immediately bring in the Justice League was that I suggested he call you first.”

“Shit.”

“Language,” Damian berated, like he wasn’t just as bad as Jason.

“Robin,” Bruce growled. “You have some explaining to do.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out—wait, no, I mean that I was going to be back by 11 and I was staying in safe areas and only stopped a couple muggings and like, walked some women home, you know Robin stuff, it was totally fine the whole time!”

“It doesn’t matter what you were doing, it’s dangerous out there, especially right now!”

“I can handle myself! I could handle myself when I was 10! I was alone at night for a year!”

“And you _shouldn’t have been!_ No kid should be!”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Yes, you are! You’re _my_ kid! And even if we weren’t Batman and Robin I wouldn’t want you out there alone!”

“Well I _wasn’t alone!_ ” As soon as he said it, Jason knew he’d fucked up. He’d dug his grave, and now he’d have to lay in it. _I’m so sorry Cardinal,_ he thought, _I didn’t mean to get you beat up._

Bruce has gone from angry wide gestures and barely withheld energy to complete stillness. “You what?”

“Uhhhh.”

“Who exactly were you with.” It was a question, but it didn’t sound like one in that voice. In a way, even though this was creepy, this complete stillness was a lot better than the previous yelling match. His dad had never been quiet mad, always explosive mad. “I know you weren’t with Cass, because I called her. So who exactly were you with, Robin?”

Jason looked sharply away from Bruce, scuffing his shoe on the stone floor.

“Robin,” Damian pushed, in what Jason knew was the closest he could get to reaffirming.

“ _IwaswithCardinal_.” He muttered.

“What?”

“I was with Cardinal!”

“You—” Bruce stopped, jaw flexing. Then he closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. He took off his cowl and gloves, and sat down at the Batcomputer for a long second. Jason recognized this as Bruce’s anger management exercise, that he’d started after the first time Jason hid a mistake for fear of getting yelled at. He had said that he never again wanted to make one of his children afraid to talk to him. And Jason...well he wouldn’t admit it, but seeing Bruce do this did make him a lot calmer. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully wiped of emotion. “You sought out an unknown vigilante, alone, at night, when no one knew where you were? After me and Damian specifically decided to not approach him yet?”

“I didn’t look for him, he came and said hi. He was checking on me! Because he was worried about me being alone!”

“And you, what, believed him? Just _went_ with him? Jason, he could be dangerous.”

“No! He’s not dangerous!” Jason was flushed, now, from embarrassment or frustration or anger, he wasn’t sure. He _hated_ being treated like a kid. He was a freaking superhero! “He didn’t ask me to come with him. He just said I shouldn’t be out here alone and to be careful and stuff, and he was about to leave but I told him to wait. And we didn’t go inside any buildings, or track down any crime, or anything! He’s really cool, B, I swear. He showed me a bunch of cool places to get late night snacks, and we scared the shit out of a mugger, and he told me a bunch of the newest Crime Alley gossip.”

“It doesn’t matter how _cool_ he is, you will _not_ be meeting him again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Bruce, no. He’s scared of you!”

“Then there won’t be any issues.”

“No,” Damian cut in. “There won’t be. Because I’ll be handling it.”

Bruce glowered at his eldest. “Damian.”

“Dad. You know I’m right. You are too close to handle this coolly. Tomorrow I will track him down, and calmly tell him to leave Robin alone. We will go from there.”

—·—

"Stay away from Robin."

Standing at the edge of a rooftop, Cardinal turns toward him, acting completely unsurprised. His posture is infuriatingly relaxed, one hand leaning on his bo staff, the other on his hip. A pleased smirk graces his lips. Damian feels… _seen._ He doesn't like it. 

"Nightwing," Cardinal greets, voice a mix between Gotham Elite and one of his grandfather's men. "There you are. What's a little bird have to do to get your attention?" 

"You targeted Robin to _get our attention?"_ his hand itched for the blades on his back. 

"Targeted is such a _strong_ word. All we did was patrol together. I didn't even touch him. Not so much as a handshake." He cocks his head. "Is that the problem? Should I have shaken his hand, properly introduced myself?" He reaches a hand out with a smarmy smile. Damian does not oblige. 

"Shut up Cardinal." The smile twitches, before settling back in its creepy place. 

"I don't know who Cardinal is. See, this is why introductions are so important." Cardinal has dropped his proffered hand, and moves to perch atop a nearby air conditioning unit, legs sprawled wide, leaning back on his elbows. 

“Oh, _pardon me_. What is your name then?”

The smile turns teethy, shark-like. “I’m Red Robin.”

Damian snaps. His blade is drawn in a flash, his legs dash toward this _Red Robin_ . There is a _clang_ as his blade meets the bo staff now between them. “How fucking dare you.”

Now inches from his face, the toothy grin widens, accompanied by a throaty little laugh that reminds him far too much of his grandfather after a dip in the pit. The longer he’s around this... _Red_ character, the less forgiving he feels. “What’s wrong, ‘Wing?”

“You have _no right_ to that name! It belongs to _me_ and _Robin_ and _no one else_. You do not get to claim it for your little game of play pretend superhero, riding on the coattails of my family!”

“Shouldn’t you—” a broken giggle— “Shouldn’t you be saying Robin _sss_?”

“Shut up!” Damian pushes forward, but Red’s staff holds steady.

“Come now, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You can’t _stop_ people from being inspired by your legacy. Myself and every other kid in the city watched you fly around the city, doing the things we dream of and being brave when we couldn’t. What would you have me do? It’s a bit late to find a different hero.”

Damian stops pressing quite so hard. “You have no right,” he repeats with a snarl. But some of his steam has been lost. As cruel as it is for this stranger to claim to know what...what Timothy would feel, he knows that he is exactly right. The first time they had met Tim had begged him for a picture. Even though Damian had been...rough, jealous, and mean the few times they saw each other after that, Tim had never lost that stupid sparkle in his eye. Now, having been through his photo collection, Damian knew how much the kid had idolized him. Tim’s wallet still sits on his bedside table even now, right where he had left it. Damian had picked it up just long enough to see the picture of him in it, right beside the ones of Bruce, Alfred, Steph, Cass, and his parents. He wouldn’t have begrudged someone else their heroes.

Damian drops his blade and steps back, out of reach. “And you’re creepy,” he tacks on spitefully. 

“Heh. I’ve been told.”

"Okay then _Red Robin_. Why do you want our attention?" 

"Well _our_ implies I want the attention of all the bats. I'd rather prefer I _not_ meet the Batman, thank you. And I'm ambivalent about this new Robin."

"Then why do you want _my_ attention? What makes you think that is wise?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" Red brings one hand up to cup his cheek, adopting a faux innocent manner. "Oh Nightwing, you're my hero!" The higher, breathy tone tickles somewhere at the back of Damians memory. He ignores it in favor of scowling as intimidatingly as he can. He's been known to make even the cruelest of men shiver, yet Red doesn't react at all. 

“Yes, yes. I am here now, so get on with it.”

"Hmmm." Red puts a gloved finger to his lips and cocks his head, like he's thinking of the perfect thing to say. "Oh, I've got it. Robin told me you're impressed by how sneaky I am?" 

Goddammit, Jason. “Of course he did. So glad you’re making friends. Maybe next you can help each other with homework and eat together in the cafeteria.” He waggles his free hand in what he meant to be a diminutive way. Red just laughs.

“No homework help from me I’m afraid. Didn’t even finish high school, let alone college.”

“You—what? Then why are you only out on weeknights?” Damian interrogates. He doesn’t like being wrong. 

“Fooled you, didn't it?”

He grips his blade harder, and makes himself relax his jaw. “How old are you then.” It is a demand, not a question. He likes a grown man hanging around Robin significantly less than a teenager. 

“Chronologically, mentally, or physically?”

What. “I was under the impression they are the same.”

“Are they though?”

“Oh. I see. You’re insane,” he decides. 

“Heheh. I’ve been told that too.”

“I am done with this game of yours. You _will_ stay away from Robin.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Oh that is _not_ how this works.” He takes a menacing step forward. 

“I’ve got it!” Red exclaims, finally standing from his stupid perch, stupid unnerving smile still on his face. “Let’s strike a deal! I’ll stay away from Robin, and in return, _you_ will do something for _me_. How’s that sound?”

“It _sounds_ like that’s not how this _works_.”

“Oh come now! You haven’t even heard what I want. You can always say no. And it’s not even illegal!” The stupid smile is lighthearted. _It’s probably just an autograph, or a patrol together, the creepy little fan,_ he thinks.

“Fine. What do you want?”

Red’s smile is instantly sharklike again, all teeth and a hint of tongue flashing out. Red sought his eyes, as well as they could, domino lens to domino lens. Damian feels the hair stand on the base of his neck. Like he’s being hunted. 

“Kiss me.”

...

“Pardon me?” That’s. That couldn’t be right. This was. Another of his stupid jokes. This man was not using a favor from _fucking Nightwing_ for a goddamn _kiss_.

“You heard me. I want to kiss you. And I want you to not stab me when I do.” Red can’t seem to hold his excitement, legs bouncing almost imperceptibly. 

“That’s ridiculous!” Damian snaps. 

Red shrugs. “Then say no.”

“I—” He stops. The request is ridiculous. Ridiculous and weird and _creepy_. Sure he had gotten lines and digs from villains what with the suit but it was always quickly intimidated out of them. Even the Gotham elite were respectful of him, like they could sense somewhere in their animal hindbrains that he was different from them. But.

But.

This was Jason he was talking about. And if a single kiss with a creep would keep his little brother safe... Then of course it’s worth it.

“Okay. You’ll have your kiss.” Red gasps, barely audible. His tongue darts out to lick pink bowed lips. They look...not soft, but bitten. They keep moving, shifting, like they can’t decide between an excited smile and an awed ‘o’. Damian’s eyes dart back up. Lucky for the lenses hiding his gaze. “Well? Get it over with.” He forces himself to not cross his arms. He wouldn’t show how off his game this had him. 

“Right.” Red wastes no time walking right up to him, as close as they’d been when Damian attacked. His hands seem to hover, unsure where to settle. He’s breathing a little quick as well, little puffs of air right on Damian’s face. He smells like cheap diner food, expensive coffee, whatever he cleans his armor with, and sweat. “Okay.” Is it just Damian or is Red’s voice shaking? Jesus. 

Finally, one gloved hand rests alongside his face, fingers curling around the back of his head, thumb slowly stroking his cheekbone. The other holds his hip tightly enough he can feel it through the suit. Red’s lenses blink closed and he dips in a centimeter, only to change his mind, dip back out, and open his eyes again. “Okay,” Red repeats.

“Oh for fuck’s sa—” Then there are lips on his. Closed mouthed, pressed a little too tightly, slightly slick and textured from biting. Red’s masked eyes are wide, apparently watching. “Mmph.” Their breaths mingle, noses pressed side to side. They are both still for probably too many seconds. Red is the one to move of course, back just enough that their lips are more comfortably flushed. His lips begin to move, sliding softly along Damian’s still ones. Every movement is careful, like Red needed the kiss to be just so. It wasn’t an awful kiss, but Damian had never kissed somehow he didn’t know well before. It had never been anything but perfectly natural. Red’s ongoing kiss was as natural as a blade. When Red pushes more insistently, he relaxes his face enough that Red can move their lips together, though he doesn’t actively participate. 

The hand on his hip moves to the small of his back, and pulls so their armored fronts press together. He can feel the muscles in Red’s arms flexing around him, can feel Red’s breath puffing faster. It seems Red is making the most of his one kiss.

Then, when Damian has settled into the pattern they have, Red’s tongue licks along his lips, poking at the barely there opening. He has half a mind to end it there, to keep his teeth clenched, but, well. He’s gone this far. And with how ecstatic a single kiss is making Red, he almost pities him. If he believed in pity. So he relaxes his jaw, and Red takes advantage, his thumb moving from cheekbone to pressing down on his jawbone, forcing his mouth open. Red’s tongue plunges between his lips, going to lick his tongue and caress the roof of his mouth before retreating back to his lips. Red finds a new pattern, languidly moving lips and tongue together before he would get excited and plunder Damian’s mouth. He seems intent on exploring every detail of him, perhaps even memorizing it. From the divots of his hard palate, to the crooked incisor, to the slightly loose molar that had taken too many punches, to his tongue and his tongue and his tongue some more. 

It was certainly the most enthusiastic kiss he could remember in a long while. Possibly since he was fifteen and certain he would die if he didn’t learn what his best friend tasted like. If his last boyfriend had been this enthusiastic a kisser, they might still be together. It is...flattering, if not desperate and a little sad. 

It isn’t until Damian is breathing hard, head fuzzy, that Red finally pulls away, ending the kiss by tugging Damian’s bottom lip between his teeth, and then stepping away. Damian finds himself opening his eyes, not remembering closing them. Red has a hand over his lower face, panting. His lenses are narrowed. 

“O—”Damian begins to speak, but his voice is rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “Okay. You’ve had your kiss. Now stay away from Robin.”

“Fuck Da—Ahem. Yeah. Yes. Deal. Frick. You—You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that.”

He scoffs. “Sure.” Dramatic fuck. He’d probably saved the guy from a mugging a few years ago, inspired an unfortunate obsession with crime fighting and crime fighters. He sheaths the blade hanging limply in his hand and moves to the roof’s edge. He had more questions, but wasn’t feeling like playing this game anymore tonight. “And don’t get yourself killed,” he tosses back as he shoots the grapple.

He doesn’t hear Red Robin say, “Too late.”

—·—

When Timothy Jackson Drake was 5 years old, he got lost at a DI party. He'd needed to pee, you see, and his mother had insisted the month previous that he was a big boy now, and he could go to the bathroom all on his own. He'd managed to follow the signs there, and open the door to the family restroom, and conclude his business all on his own. Filled with pride at his grownupness, he'd left the room and promptly realized he'd no idea how to get back. At the time he'd been terrified his mother would be disappointed in him for disappearing, but now he thinks she probably hadn't even noticed. So he had wandered a touch, gotten more lost, and ran straight into the back of a bigger kid. 

If you were to ask Damian how long he knew Tim Drake, he would probably say he'd known of him for 7 years, but only _known_ him for 3. Damian, for all he liked to boast he remembered every face, every name, had a tendency to discard those he considered small, weak, and mundane. A random crying child he met at 10 years old, during a time when he was battling his newly met father to become his superhero partner? Not worth committing to memory. This was not the case for Tim. He had _known_ Damian for longer than he hadn’t. 

He'd bumped into this kid, who had swung quickly around, hand swinging in a punch that luckily went far over his head. Still, he fell back, right onto his butt. Damian had looked shocked to see a child, but quickly masked him with a classic scowl. Tim's mom told him not to frown because it would get stuck like that, but Tim didn't relay this, if only because his throat was full of tear snot. 

"What are you doing here?" Damian had demanded like this was his castle and not a water fountain in a hallway in an upscale hotel. 

Tim snuffled his nose, swallowing a glob of snot, before answering. "'M lost." Damian sighed, probably annoyed that he— the prince of Gotham and heir to the league of assassins— had to deal with a lost child. 

"Follow me." He said. He didn't offer his hand to lead Tim, which was fine, because Tim hadn't even thought to expect it. They walked along plush old hallways, Damian dragging his feet to delay his return, Tim following just behind him. 

"I don't like it here," Tim felt inspired to say by Damian's upturned nose. "Everyone says nice things in mean ways." 

Damian looked back, almost impressed. "I do not like it either. They are cowards. If they think my Father and I stupid, they should simply say so. Do not worry though. Someday you will excel at these events." Tim's mother had said so too. They weren't wrong. 

"I don't wanna-" he stopped. Mom didn't like it when he talked like a baby. "I don't want to be fake nice. Can't I be real nice? Like you?" 

Damian barked a laugh. "I am not real nice. If anything I am real _mean_.”

“I think you’re nice.”

“Tt. Well. You do not know better.”

“Oh.”

At last they stood in the doorway to the massive banquet room. People in costly clothing milled around, weaving intrigue and ill feelings. They were the only kids there.

“I don’t want to go back.” Tim hadn’t wanted to come. Ms. Avery had got them a movie about the dinosaurs to watch together next time she babysat, and he desperately wanted to see it. He didn’t argue with mom though. He hated the way she frowned at him when he did.

“Neither do I. Let us find your parents so I can leave again.”

Tim’s lip quivered. He sniffed, and brought his hands up to make sure all his tears were gone. Big kids don’t cry. “Okay,” he said, small, resigned. 

Damian took a step out the door. Stopped. Put his fingers to rub his temples. Sighed. Finally, he turned to Tim and said, “Come with me.” He put his hand on Tim’s shoulder and walked them down the wall to where the hor d'oeuvres tables sat. Then, when no one was looking in their direction, he lifted the fancy white table cloth of the dessert table and pushed them both underneath. 

The bright lights filtered through the white cloth enough to see well, but shadowed to be cozy and separate from the rest of the world. Like when Ms. Avery had made them a blanket fort. They sat crisscross applesauce, knees bumping together. Tim thought it was magical. He didn’t remember what prompted it, but Damian had started telling him a story he said his mother told when he was Tim’s age. And then another. And another. The first time someone stopped outside their hideout Damian had looked at him very intensely, holding a finger over his lips in a _‘shh’_ motion. Tim had clasped his hands over his mouth and held as still as he could. Every time after that, Damian would simply pause, and glower up like it could make their unwelcome guest leave. They all did, eventually, so Tim thought maybe it had worked. 

Tim was sure this kid was real nice, though, because whenever Tim teared up Damian’s frown would lift into an almost smile, and his voice would get all soft and coaxing, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” It was like how you would talk to a frightened animal, though he didn’t know so at the time. Every so often he would snake a hand up to grab them some sugary snacks. Eventually, the hours turned late, and Tim was drooping forward, eyes sleepily blinking while Damian talked. Damian pulled them out from the table with a resigned sigh. 

During the search for Tim's parents, a _giant_ man intercepted, champagne in hand, suit disheveled. 

"Damian," said the man, voice deep and jovial. "There you are. And you made a friend! Are you ready to go home, lad?" 

"I must return this child to his parents, Father." Damian replied, like it was some vitally important task. Tim realized this man was Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham his parents so disdainfully talked about. 

"Ah, of course," sounding almost proud. "Meet me at the entrance when you're done then, son. I need my beauty sleep. And I keep telling you, call me Dad."

Mr. Wayne drifted away, and Damian escorted him until he spotted his parents and was shooed along to them. "Ah, there you are, Timothy," said Janet, immediately returning to her conversation. Tim watched Damian walk to the door the whole way. Damian didn't look back at him. 

Years later, Tim would see a clip on the news of Robin saving a cat from a burning building, and he would _know_ it was Damian from that kind half smile he gave it. The same half smile Tim so fiercely guarded the memory of as he watched Damian grow up from across party halls. 

They say that the core of your personality forms by the age of six, and on Tim's more romantic minded days he likes to think that Damian was the last piece that went into making him, well, _him_. 

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you think, or hit me up on twitter @kittyinshadows_


End file.
